


Working Lunch

by LadyJanus



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanus/pseuds/LadyJanus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our favourite duo take a moment to have a quiet lunch and discuss the state of the fleet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Lunch

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> This was my first A/R fic, written way back in 2006 and posted to the Adama/Roslin Archive "Survival Instinct". Alternate Universe with spoilers to end of Season 2; at the time, I'd only seen up to Resurrection Ship II, but had heard the rumours on the internet and read other fics that inspired this. 
> 
> It later inspired me to write a longer crossover fic with Star Trek: Voyager, which I will also be posting. In that fic, this scene forms part of the first chapter.

Working Lunch

 

Admiral William Adama looked at President Laura Roslin, who sat sprawled on the other end of the couch in his quarters. She glanced at him from beneath half-lowered lids.

“What?” he asked curiously. “Do I have food on my face?” The remainder of their humble lunch was spread out on the low coffee table.

He frowned at her barely-touched sandwich; she’d eaten the soup, which he was grateful for, but had only managed a quarter of the frillfish sandwich. Though she’d lost some of that gaunt look from the ravages of fighting cancer, she was still thinner than he’d like and her continued lack of appetite concerned him. That was why he’d started scheduling these working lunches.

The cancer was thankfully now in remission due to Baltar’s unorthodox treatment using the Cylon hybrid child’s blood. Neither Baltar nor Cottle could explain what exactly this treatment had done to his satisfaction and though he was grateful that Laura had not died, William was leary of thinking of it as a cure. Cures often lead to complacency … loss of vigilance and he could not afford to lose vigilance--not where her life was concerned.

She turned to face him, moving with that same feline grace that had captivated him from their first meeting, though he’d hidden it for months.

“We’re going to have to stop these lunches, William,” she said, startling him until he saw her impish smile, “and especially just before a scheduled jump. Rumour has it that Admiral Adama, Supreme Commander of the Fleet and the Battlestar _Galactica_ , has been ravishing the President of the Twelve Colonies in here.”

“Lords of Kobol!” he roared. “Have people nothing better to do?”

Her expression was serious now. “For good or ill, love,” she replied gently. “We are their leaders and much as I hate to admit it, our lives are not our own. People will speculate and we haven’t exactly taken any pains to conceal our relationship.”

“I’m on duty, for Kobol’s sake,” he said. “When would we find time for frakking? We jump in less than four hours!”

“Yes, dear,” she said with that infuriating smile again. “And what do you think most civilians and probably quite a few of your off-duty people are doing right now?” she asked sweetly with a low chuckle. “I don’t have any hard statistics, but I expect that the incidence of frakking shoots up exponentially just before a jump.” She laughed at his sour expression. “It’s only human. Why do you think we had such a spike in the number of births eight months ago?”

He looked blank and she laughed harder.

“What?” he demanded peevishly.

“You men!” she snorted. “Think of the dates, love. The numbers spiked because exactly nine months previously we were running for our lives, jumping every thirty-three minutes. People were scared--any minute the Cylons could jump in and wipe them from existence! They needed something life-affirming, they needed to feel alive,” she said gently as he clasped her hand. “And I know of nothing more life-affirming than making love.”

She scooted closer and laid her head against his chest. He stroked her auburn mane with his free hand.

“And if everyone is doing it, they assume we must be too,” he said chuckling.

He loved this smart, wonderful woman and there were moments when his heart ached at the thought of just how close he came to losing her without ever really knowing her. He had been of two minds whether to object to her running for President again, but there was no choice; Baltar or Zarek would have been a disaster. He was glad she hadn’t allowed herself to be manipulated by Baltar and the Geminese religious brigade into compromising her stance on human rights, and more importantly, women’s rights.

She’d won by only a slim margin, but she’d won and continued to lead them to Earth, avoiding the Baltar’s trap of paradise baited with a--barely-habitable (in his opinion)--planet they could settle on. Laura had pulled every political and rhetorical trick she had in her arsenal to remind their war-weary civilian population of the need to keep mobile and ahead of the Cylons. Through the force of her will, she had shut down the lunatic fringe that wanted to make peace--he grimaced at the thought--with the Cylons and reminded the people what the price would be of letting their guards down where Cylons were concerned; complete extermination of the human species.

William lifted her chin and kissed her gently. As he deepened the kiss, she pulled back, blue-grey eyes dancing with desire and mirth.

“Which is why we can’t,” she admonished gently and he sighed. “Anyway, you’re on duty,” she reminded him, lifting his hand to her lips and planting a kiss on the palm. He felt a renewed stirring of his desire as the tip of her pink tongue darted out licked the sensitive pad of his thumb tracing her lips. “And I’m not about to scramble for a quickie when I can have you all night. Besides, I’m not Starbuck or Dualla, and I’m too old for this couch--we’re both way too old for this couch.”

His laughter was cut off by the klaxon’s blare and she jumped. He squeezed her hand reassuringly; they rose without a word. At the door, he let her hand go and she followed him to the Combat Information Centre.

 _Galactica's_ executive officer, Colonel Saul Tigh, looked up as they approached. But as he submerged himself in his XO’s situation report and the activity of the command centre, William spared a silent invocation to the Lords of Kobol to keep Laura safe as she took up her usual position out of the way towards the back of CIC.

Adama studied the updated DRADIS report from Lieutenant Gaeta; a Cylon Basestar had just jumped into the system and was approximately eight minutes out.

“Are all ships ready to jump?”

“Ready as they’ll ever be, Sir,” Tigh replied dourly. “The last of the repairs on _Rising Star_ and _Oracle_ were finished twenty minutes ago and all have been updated on the jump coordinates.”

Adama nodded. “Recall the CAP and start the jump clock,” he ordered.

The minutes ticked down inexorably. Dualla reported that the Viper patrol had landed and gave the all secure on the flight deck as the jump engines spiralled up on a single exquisite note Adama never heard but felt through the deck plates which conducted it through his bones.

“Execute jump!”

William Adama lifted his gaze to meet Laura Roslin’s as the universe winked out.

 


End file.
